


To Exist

by ichigoangel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, literally no fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichigoangel/pseuds/ichigoangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two unfortunate souls lived in Apartment #8; two human beings broken beyond repair. They had long since become blind to the reasons why life was worth fighting for, and so they didn’t fight. They did nothing, really; they existed, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. The two men who barely lived day by day simply existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Title: What HMS Could Have Been, Almost Was, But Never Became !
> 
> So this is basically just something I really needed to get out of my system! Just a oneshot in an AUverse in which both Levi and Eren are addicted to drugs, and that's literally all this is. I mainly wrote this to satisfy my craving for drug addict!Eren and Levi, so I honestly don't know that any of you will actually enjoy reading this? Haha, I promise I'll get some things that you'll actually enjoy up soon <3 
> 
> Oh, and I listened to Schism by Tool a lot while writing this, and I think it's a decent mood song for it~.

Within the depths of a large, busy city that boasted one of the highest populations in a single city there existed an apartment complex that was just like every other apartment complex around. Nothing made it stand out; it was simply another apartment building in a crowded city. In that building, Apartment #8 was on the third floor, and it was undoubtedly the most pathetically kept apartment in the building. Only half of the lights were ever on, simply because the two inhabitants of the room seldom got around to replacing the burnt out light bulbs. As a result, #8 was kept in a constantly dimmed state that did nothing to add to the unwelcoming air of the place. 

The entire place was a mess, from dirtied dishes lingering on the filthy countertop surface to the copious amount of stains on what was supposed to be pure white carpet. The two bedrooms, while time was very rarely actually spent in them, were so cluttered that it was difficult to find an accessible walking route to the bed. It had been ages since anyone had bothered to vacuum or mop or even dust the trashed surfaces in the living room. 

In the center of the living room there was an old, worn-down black leather couch that was covered in old blankets that each had several holes tearing them apart at the seams. The couch was by far the piece of furniture that got the most use, and the living room itself was the location of most of the apartment’s activity. 

You could think of any drug and chances were you would find it in Apartment #8. While cocaine and heroin were the two most commonly found drugs in the apartment, everything had made an appearance at some point or other, and most were recurring presences. The two inhabitants of the apartment found no reason to be secretive, and so the evidence of their habits was everywhere. The fine white powder of cocaine littered almost every surface, and needles were one of the most common objects scattered throughout the small apartment. 

Two unfortunate souls lived in Apartment #8; two human beings broken beyond repair. They had long since become blind to the reasons why life was worth fighting for, and so they didn’t fight. They did nothing, really; they existed, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. The two men who barely lived day by day simply existed.

Eren Yeager, age 22. His turquoise-green eyes once burned brightly with a sense of determination that few could ever hope to match. He had a head of messy brown hair that used to be kept neatly trimmed, but these days it was often slightly too long. Once, he’d had two loving parents and an adopted sister named Mikasa; that is, until a tragic accident of which Eren was the only survivor, much to his horror. It didn’t take long after the accident for him to lose the will to continue fighting, and he gave up on life almost immediately. He’d had a fair number of friends, sure, but he’d pushed them all away long ago. They didn’t approve of his newly obtained habits in the slightest, and he’d chosen the substances that altered his physical state over the people who fought to keep him feeling like a human. There was only one other person in the world that he was willing to talk to for more than thirty seconds, and that was his roommate who voiced no opposition to his choices, if only because he made identical choices himself.

Levi, age 29. He used to let nothing stand in the way of his own success, fighting down any force that opposed him. He could have been a remarkable person, but that simply was not his destiny. After a difficult childhood involving parents who were constantly gone and who never once gave a single shit about him and a car accident that killed all four of his only friends, he lost any sense of purpose that he’d gained over the years. 

As far as Levi was concerned, he should have died alongside them; he’d had every intention of joining them on that trip to the amusement park they frequently went to together, but circumstance left him unable to join them that day. He never recovered from that, just like Eren had never recovered from the accident that left him without family. He developed a loathing for emotion, for feeling; and so he killed such awful sensations with numbness and euphoria that made much more sense. Eren understood that necessity, and that was how he became the most appropriate choice for a roommate.

Both of them possessed a fair number of tattoos and piercings that originate back to the only time that they attempted to put their life back together and not place such a heavy dependence on drugs. Needless to say, it was a rather short span of time, but they got a lot done in that time. Levi had more piercings than Eren did, in the end having two rings over his left eyebrow, a stud on his right one, a stud on his nose, a thin ring on his lip, a pierced collarbone, and several ear piercings in each ear. Every piercing was silver except for a couple of studs on his ear, which were black. Eren had one eyebrow piercing which was a stud, a ring through his nose, snakebites underneath his lips, a collarbone piercing, and two piercings in each ear; one stud and one ring each. 

Both of them possessed full-sleeve tattoos on both of their arms; wings were the most common theme in the complicated array of ink fused with the flesh of their arms. Eren had the names of his parents and sister in cursive writing dispersed throughout the sleeves, and other than that and the wings, the rest was just a complex array of swirls and patterns in black ink. Levi’s were like that as well, but his patterns were all composed of smaller, thinner lines than Eren’s, so his took more time to finish. 

They had used their ink and piercings as a distraction from their cravings, and that was a point in time where they thought they actually had a fighting chance at living out a decent life. Their motivation got lost in translation, however, and it wasn’t long before they were back to their old ways, but after that it just got worse. 

Levi ever only wore black clothing and he often kept his tattoos hidden underneath long-sleeved black shirts paired with black jeans. Eren often wore band t-shirts that he had gotten from the copious amounts of concerts he used to go to; most often worn were shirts for Tool, FFDP, and Korn. These were paired with jeans that had more holes than actual fabric left on them. It didn’t much matter how they chose to present themselves, though; trips outside of #8 were seldom and based only upon necessity, not motivation.  
-x-

When Eren and Levi first met, they were both still functional members of society; barely, but they were. 

Eren had just graduated college and had found a job in retail; nothing too great but it was enough to support his family of one. Before he met Levi, he lived in a shabby, run-down old apartment on the outskirts of the city. It hadn’t been much but it was all he had needed. Levi had an office job that paid well and also lived in an apartment; however, his was a few steps above Eren’s in quality. They were two people who likely wouldn’t have crossed paths had the circumstances been anything other than what they were.

They met through a mutual drug dealer that Levi had already been acquainted with for over a year but that Eren had only just met. Levi was a part of Eren’s life from the very beginning of his descent, and he had already been an avid user of different drugs for a year and a half. The first time they met was the first time that Eren had tried cocaine. He took his very first hit immediately after Levi took his second hit of the evening, snorting the fine white powder laid before him. The effects were quick and Eren knew immediately that he would want to feel that high over and over again.

Their first conversation was during Eren’s first high, and their next conversation was also under the circumstance of cocaine influence. Eren chatted rapidly and excitedly with Levi as he let the euphoria take over him and allow him to forget all about the horrors that plagued his reality. Levi found that the younger wasn’t nearly as intolerable as most people he met during gatherings and they naturally gravitated towards each other until they were always seen together at gatherings. With most people, Levi refused to offer up any sort of response to attempts at conversing with him, but Eren was the exception.

Very rarely did they ever talk without the high of whatever drug they had just accepted into their body. Thankfully, they were rarely expected to, since the majority of the time together was at gatherings that existed only for the purpose of getting high. Without the drugs, conversing with one another was strained and incredibly awkward. But with them, speech flowed naturally between them. 

They had only known each other for a few weeks when they had the idea of moving in together; both of them had people constantly on their back about their need for drugs. They each figured that if they lived with somebody else that they would be better able to assure the people around them that they would be just fine. They were the best and most readily available option, so they agreed to move in with each other without hesitation. Since Levi’s apartment was the nicer of the two, it was decided that Eren would move into #8 with him. A few days after the talk of moving in together started, Eren arrived at the door of #8 with a suitcase in hand. They were able to do what it was they desired without fear of criticism from the other, because they were both in the exact same situation. 

-x-

“Can I ask you a question?” Eren asked, wiping a trail of fresh blood away from his nose. As an avid cocaine user, nosebleeds became a frequent occurrence that left the edges of most of his sleeves stained with small, dark trails of crimson. Eren was still new enough to cocaine to feel the euphoric type of high that made him enthusiastic and chatty, and much to Levi’s irritation, he talked often while sitting around in the apartment. Both of them still had their respective jobs and functioned in society; they had yet to sink down quite so low.

He had moved into Levi’s apartment less than a week ago, and he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by fine white powder and a half-empty bottle of rum. Levi was sprawled lazily on the couch, syringe lying beside him on the soft leather cushion. He had been staring into space, enjoying the numbness from both emotional and physical feeling as he rode out his current high, but Eren’s words brought him into a hazy half-focus.

“What?” Levi responded, adjusting his position to properly lie down; he figured he’d pass out sometime in the near future. 

“Where does all your money come from?”

“I could ask you the same, kid.”

“I’m curious. It’s important to know, I think.”

“Yet you moved in with me without a second thought. You make no sense.” Levi rolled over so that his back was turned to the boy sitting on the floor, already eyeing up his next hit.

“Well, yeah. Whatever. Just tell me.” 

“Parents were rich. Left me a shit-ton of money.”

“Hey, mine too! Guess we have more in common than we thought.”

“I don’t really care.” Levi replied, closing his eyes. 

Eren tried to bring up another topic to keep the conversation going, but Levi cut him off.

“Shut the fuck up, kid, I’m trying to sleep.” Eren frowned, reluctant to stop his constant chatter, but he decided that it was best not to get on his new roommate’s nerves too much, especially considering Levi was a naturally irritable person. He shrugged and took his next hit before lying down on the floor for lack of anything better to do.

Levi was around for Eren’s first experience with heroin the way that he was around for Eren’s first snort of cocaine.

Their next conversation was that night after they both woke up. Levi sat up slowly and reached over to grab the heroin that he so desperately needed. He picked his syringe up off the couch and made the necessary preparations; Eren watched him intently the whole time. As Levi lifted the needle to a patch of skin on his forearm, he looked up to find Eren’s wide eyes staring at him curiously.

“What the fuck do you want, Yeager?” He asked, irritation heavy in his voice.

“What does it feel like?”

“What, heroin?”

“Yeah. I’ve never done it. I’m curious.”

“Feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s relaxing and lets you feel nice and warm for a while. It’s enjoyable, really.” Levi replied, though he knew exactly how dangerous it was to be addicted to such a substance. He didn’t care, and if Eren ended up addicted and dead from overdose, he didn’t really care. The kid could do as he pleased; he wasn’t about to stop him, that was for sure. 

Eren remained silent for a moment, still watching Levi carefully as the heroin made its way into Levi’s veins. He exhaled as he finished his work with the needle, setting it back on the couch and leaning back, waiting for the high to flow naturally into him. Eventually, Eren spoke up.

“Do you think…I could…?” He never did finish the statement, but Levi knew exactly what he meant. He sighed heavily before sitting back up.

“If you really want some, I don’t really care. Knock yourself out.” That was entirely too much of a possibility, actually. Eren had about as much self-restraint as Levi did, as far as he could tell. 

“Could you…show me how?” Eren asked, discomfort in his voice. Watching Levi was the first time he’d seen anybody shoot up in real life, and he was still at a bit of a loss over how to go about it. To be quite honest, he was scared of the needle. He’d never been fond of them, but the idea of the high he would receive was far too tempting to pass up, especially if Levi was willing to share what he had. And so he tried to control his nervous shaking as Levi showed him how to prepare everything and handed him the needle, directing him on the best way to get access to his veins. 

The needle pricked the edge of Eren’s skin and he squinted his eyes in concentration as he injected himself with the liquidized drug. He pulled the syringe away from his skin once the contents were distributed through the veins of his body. The effect was quick, which Eren found to be very pleasing. Levi had accurately described the high, because it was exactly what Eren felt as he took a position sitting on the couch right beside Levi. They stared at the TV without actually registering what was happening on the screen as they reveled in their drug-induced stupor. 

Eren fell asleep leaning against Levi, covering his shoulder in a thick layer of drool as they both passed out cold at the end of the night. Eren still preferred cocaine over heroin, but he did have Levi pick him up heroin often when he went on runs. Eren had only gone on a run once and had come very close to fucking it up, so it was only Levi who left the apartment in pursuit of the substances that would provide them their next high. 

-x-

Eren’s increased tolerance that originated from snorting coke too frequently caused the quality of his high to shift for the worse. As he began to need more and more to receive the desired effect, he became quite irritated. Because Levi was the only other person around Eren at practically all times, he received a majority of that frustration. It was on particularly bad days that Eren would scream at him, blaming him for needing more coke. On the worst days, he actually raised his fist against Levi, causing them to lock together in brawls that left them both bruised and bloodied. Levi tried to ignore Eren when he tried to instigate a fight, but Eren stubbornly refused to calm down until Levi fought back, which normally involved Levi kicking Eren down into the ground. Eren crashing to the floor typically marked the end of the fights they got into.

It typically started with Eren pointing out the levels of their stock, and it all went from there.

On one such day, he approached Levi after walking back into the living room after taking a shower. He’d discovered his coke stash was lower than he anticipated, an unwelcome sight to his desperate eyes. He’d taken a hit before leaving the bathroom, so as was the norm, he was high as he made effort to communicate with Levi. Levi was sitting on the couch lazily smoking a cigarette, watching boredly as the smoke swirled around him in streams. He barely looked up at the angrily tensed boy as he approached him. 

“So, it turns out that I have less coke left than I thought I did.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Levi replied, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. 

“How about your get off your fucking ass and get some more?” Eren snarled, clenching his fist. He only had enough left for one, maybe two more hits.

“Watch it, Eren.” Levi said, knowing that the kid was about to lose it. 

“No. Go get more.”

“I’m going on a run tonight. You’ll have to wait until tonight.”

Eren took a step closer.

“Dammit, Levi! I said go fucking get more.” His voice was now at a shout.

“I can’t go until tonight. You fucking know that, so settle it down, kid.” 

“God, I fucking hate you!” Eren screamed, swinging his fist wildly at the thin figure on the couch. Levi shifted position and Eren’s fist connected harmlessly with the air. His next punch, however, did manage to land on the side of Levi’s face. Levi sighed and disposed of the half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth before picking himself up from the couch to fight Eren back. 

Levi was better at fighting than Eren was by a significant margin, so it didn’t take long. Eren swung his fist at Levi again and Levi caught it effortlessly. Before Eren could register what was happening, Levi had kicked him down to the ground and he lay sprawled across it, landing dangerously close to a discarded syringe. His nose began to bleed and the little droplets of blood spilled onto the dirty white carpet. They spent a long stretch of time in silence after that; Eren made no effort to get up from his position on the floor. 

Levi did indeed complete the run that he promised Eren he would later that night, and all was once again well for the two broken souls residing in #8.

They never apologized to one another after such brawls; it was unnecessary in their minds. They simply carried on with their daily affairs, eventually speaking to each other again naturally. They understood each other, after all. They understood how heavily they both relied on their highs to get them through the day. They both understood how little it meant to simply exist.

-x-

About a month after moving in together, both Eren and Levi lost their jobs. Going to work high one too many times got them fired; Eren was fired before Levi was by about three days. Neither of them decided to actively pursue obtaining another job; their parents’ money was enough to keep them alive and their habits supported long enough for them to live out their short lifespans. The subtraction of their jobs marked their true downward spiral. Although somewhere along the line they would realize what they had become and try and change it, that would inevitably fail and they never would get back on their feet. 

They talked to each other less, and heavy silence filled the bleak apartment air, broken only by the television that was always on. They talked when necessary and no more; it was also damn near impossible for them to communicate in the few moments of the day that they weren’t high. They lost their concept of time and their days flowed endlessly on into one never-ending mess. Their apartment was a mess and they weren’t in much better shape; it was considered a blessing that they managed to remember to bathe in somewhat regular intervals. All that mattered was their next high, and nothing else. Nothing else was important enough to muster up emotion for. Emotion was horrid, anyways. Drug-induced oblivion was easy, and it consumed their lives. 

Trips to the grocery store became more and more seldom; neither of them ate very much at all and as a result, they rarely needed to restock the food in the house. Even if they did need food more often, the trips out of the house still would have been kept to an absolute minimum. They preferred to slowly waste away within the confines of the dimmed apartment. 

They were horrid at taking care of themselves, and both of them became unhealthily thin and scarily fragile. Their clothes draped around them loosely, hiding exactly how skinny their bodies had become. Their lack of nourishment had truly taken a toll on their bodies. Between their frail bodies and hollow faces, they were becoming less and less recognizable as the people they had once been.

They were locked in a downward spiral that wouldn’t end until they hit rock bottom. 

-x-

Every now and then, a soft knocking could be heard on the wooden door of Apartment #8. There were two different knocks created by two very different people. While the two visitors had no clue who the other was, they both shared a common goal. Armin Arlert and Hanji Zoe were two individuals who had taken it upon themselves to check in on the inhabitants of #8 for one reason and one reason only.

To make sure that they were still alive. That they still existed.

Armin Arlert, age 22 just like Eren. Eren’s best childhood friend and the one that had always been there for Eren as long as he accepted him, until he exchanged his will to live for the drug-induced highs that always wore off. He’d recognized that Eren was beyond repair the second that Eren screamed at him to leave him the fuck alone and get off his back, but he couldn’t let himself stay away completely. As a result, he often found himself in front of #8’s door, desperately praying that Eren was still alive to answer the door. Praying that his own addiction hadn’t killed him yet and foolishly hoping for the recovery that would never happen. 

Eren would never accept his help but Armin would always be there to offer it even if only through infrequent visits that lasted less than thirty seconds and were cut off with the harsh slam of the front door. He lived in constant fear of the day that he’d stop by the apartment and knock on the door just to receive silence in return before opening the unlocked door to find Eren’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor. That scenario was far too easy for Armin to visualize, and he would always regret not being able to do more for his lost best friend.

Hanji Zoe, age 30, to Levi what Armin was to Eren. She shared many memories with the drug-intoxicated body that did nothing other than lay around in that unfortunate apartment. While they had never been as close as Levi had been with his group of four best friends, she had been an important aspect of his life. She’d tried many times to find Levi a vice that wasn’t so horridly dangerous. His life could be taken away at any time and she was all too aware of that. So just like Armin, she developed the habit of checking in on Levi. Each visit made it harder to visualize the person that Levi had one been, which caused Hanji a lot of pain to bear witness to. Even so, she refused to stop the visits no matter how bitterly unwelcome they were.

One day, Armin and Hanji arrived in front of the door to #8 at the same time. They raised their hands to knock at the same time, as well. Armin awkwardly pulled his arm away and looked to Hanji, who gave him a smile that was dragged down with resigned sadness. 

“We seem to have a common goal.” She said, extending her arm so that they could shake hands. “I’m Hanji, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Armin replied, taking Hanji’s hand and offering her a sheepish smile.

“Why are you here, kiddo?”

“I’m just stopping by to say hi to my friend, Eren.” 

Hanji nodded and Armin could tell that she easily caught the connotation behind “saying hi to my friend” in that circumstance.

“Ironically enough, I’m here to say hi to my friend, Levi.”

“Are they roommates?” Eren had never bothered to tell Armin that he wasn’t the only one living in the unwelcoming apartment.

“Yes, they must be. Levi told me he was moving to an apartment with someone else, but I’ve never actually been inside. Have you?”

“No, Eren’s never let me inside.”

“And Levi has always refused me entrance, as well.” 

“Are you worried about him?”

“I really am. You’re worried about your own friend, right? I can tell.” 

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“It’s hard to help those who refuse to accept it.”

Armin nodded and asked if he could knock on the door in an effort to summon their former friends, and Hanji told him to go right ahead. They stood in silence side by side, both praying the door would be answered. Their prayers were answer and after a long moment, the door opened slowly. It was Levi who answered the door, staring at Hanji and Armin with emotionless eyes that were emphasized by the dark circles underneath them. His eternally present frown deepened as he registered that Hanji was actually there; the knocking hadn’t been his imagination like he’d hoped it was. His eyebrows furrowed in agitation when he noticed that Hanji wasn’t alone. He vaguely remembered Eren answering the door for some kid before, so this had to be him. 

He turned his head and shouted into the depths of the apartment, “Yeager, you have a visitor.” Once he heard Eren getting up from the couch he turned back to face their visitors.

“Hanji, go away. You don’t need to be here.” It was around noon, and the knocking had woken Levi up. His head hurt and he was irritated that he hadn’t gotten the chance to get high yet, instead having to face the unwanted interruption with a relatively clear mind. 

Eren sluggishly dragged himself over to the gathering in the doorway.

“I told you to stay the fuck away.” He said to Armin, already turning back around to make his way back to the living room. He barely cast Armin a second glance.

“Eren, wait!” Armin cried; Hanji put a hand lightly on his shoulder as a gesture of comfort. She hadn’t listened to Levi’s command to go away, and he was staring at her dully, wondering how much effort he would put into coaxing her away before rudely slamming the door in her face. Patience was difficult to maintain when the living room was calling his name so tenderly, begging him to send some sort of drug through his system, to satisfy the craving that was already consuming him despite having only been awake for a short time.

“I said go away, Hanji.” Levi said, grabbing the door handle so that it was obvious he was serious about cutting off the short-lived communication. 

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, Le-” Her speech was cut off by the harsh slam of the door against its frame. Armin looked up at her desperately and she gave him a grim smile in return. They didn’t move right away, instead choosing to continue standing outside the door as if it hadn’t just been made very clear that they weren’t welcome there. The air surrounding them was heavy and it practically crushed them under its weight. 

They decided to leave at the same moment and they walked side by side out of the eerie apartment building, talking about how deeply they missed the friends they had once known that had been replaced by empty, near-lifeless shells of their former selves. They both cast one last forlorn look up at Apartment #8 before walking out the door, deciding to exchange numbers and seek companionship from one another. They exchanged their parting words and went their separate ways.

That was the last time they ever saw Eren and Levi alive. 

-x-

It was unclear whether or not Eren and Levi were in a romantic relationship, mainly due to the fact that they themselves didn’t know exactly what they were to each other. They simultaneously meant everything and meant nothing to each other. They didn’t openly display affection for each other, but it was clear that had they been in a better situation in life, they likely would have been fairly affectionate towards each other. They cared about nothing in life but at the same time they had some vague sense of caring towards each other. 

They’d had sex on numerous occasions; messy and passionless, meant to pass time more than anything else. As with everything else, they had never fucked while clean; they were high every single time. There was nothing romantic or even intimate in the way they fucked in the middle of some nights. They didn’t kiss or cuddle up to each other at night. Sometimes, however, they did fall asleep leaning against each other. That was the closest they ever came to intimacy. 

Their actions towards each other hinted at what could have been an affectionate relationship. They barely had the motivation to get up from wherever they were seated in the living room even for necessity, but when it came to each other, they were more willing to exert at least a single shred of effort.

One such instance was one evening that Eren went harder than he typically did, which was saying something. He made himself sick and vomited all over himself; it made for quite the foul sight. Levi couldn’t bring himself to let Eren lay on the carpet barely conscious and covered in his own vomit, so he pulled himself away from the couch in favor of cleaning Eren up. He dragged Eren’s light body with difficulty towards the bathroom, where he washed him off with a wet cloth. 

Eren’s eyes were on Levi’s face, but they were unfocused and he was barely aware of his own surroundings. When Levi decided that the younger was clean enough to leave the bathroom, he dragged him off to Eren’s bedroom. They almost never slept in their respective bedrooms, but that night Levi placed (with difficulty) Eren into his bed and pulled the blanket over him. His eyes lingered on the boy for a long moment as he considered how similar they had turned out to be, despite being completely different people in the beginning. As far as Levi was concerned, they were one and the same. Unable to live for any sort of purpose other than getting high over and over in a cycle that would only end once they were dead. With an extended sigh, he turned the light in Eren’s room off and went back to the living room, where he could continue on his nightly schedule without interruption.

Eren also tried to comfort Levi in his own way even though he couldn’t do much for him. But he spread blankets over Levi when he was shaking after falling asleep on the couch without any sort of cover, or supporting him in standing up during the unfortunate nights where copious amounts of drugs were combined with copious amounts of alcohol. It was the tiniest of actions that made it apparent that they cared for each other, even if only slightly.

-x-

Their latest craving was for crystal meth. Together the two men fell in love with the drug that would ultimately be their end. Their funds had indeed lasted for as long as they needed them to, and most of their dwindling funds became dedicated to meth, along with their typical inventory of drugs. 

It was an afternoon just like any other. Eren was out cold on the floor after obsessively taking more hits of his respective drugs than he could handle in a short amount of time. Because of this, he was not conscious to watch Levi take his last breath. He was blissfully unaware in his comatose state of the hit of meth that would claim Levi’s life. Levi was leaning up against the couch, seated on the carpet. He didn’t realize that the amount he had set aside would be enough to kill him in his current state of fragility. His body was failing him and it couldn’t handle any more; Levi had been putting it under constant stress for way too long. 

His heart sped up and beat impossibly fast as his high came on, and he could feel himself begin to shake. His breath shortened to fast, shallow gasps as time went on. He fell over, unable to keep himself upright as his body began to shake even harder. His organs could no longer support him, and so they failed him. His overdose was not one that he was meant to survive; he had overdosed on other drugs before, but his body couldn’t power through this one. He would die the same way he had existed for so long; high and barely aware of what was going on around him.

He felt no emotion as the darkness crept into his sight, as his body was engulfed in a seizure in the middle of the living room floor. After living such a meaningless existence, Levi possessed no qualms over accepting his death. Eternal sleep was not unwelcome by his standards. As his eyes closed for the last time, he cast one last glance over to Eren, knowing that when Eren woke up next, he would find Levi dead. 

-x-

Eren woke up later that evening, roughly around six-thirty p.m. He slowly pushed himself into an upright sitting position and rubbed his head with a groan; his head ached profusely. He looked over to Levi and saw that Levi’s eyes were closed and that his mouth was hanging open; a small puddle of drool lay beneath his mouth. Eren decided that he must have passed out similarly to how he had earlier in the day, so he didn’t think much of it. 

Eren went to the bathroom and came back to find that he was slightly unsettled by the way Levi was lying on the carpet; he looked different, and Eren couldn’t place his finger on what was off. He decided to try and shake Levi awake, so he knelt down in front of Levi and took hold of his shoulders. Levi’s eyes did not open no matter how hard he shook. He was limp underneath Eren’s hands. After several moments of shaking, it finally registered in Eren’s hazy mind that Levi wasn’t just asleep.

He was dead.

Eren did not cry. He simply let go of the frail body and shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged in front of Levi. He stared blankly at the dead body set before him, unsure of what to think. 

His mind flew back to the short conversation he’d had with Levi that morning, before they had gotten too fucked up for the day.

Levi’s eyes held more emotion than they had in a long time as he stared sorrowfully at the arrangement of drugs surrounding them.

“You know.” He began, catching Eren’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe…it’s time to change. I’m getting sick of this. Maybe there’s something more than this. I’m sick of doing nothing but getting high day after day. So maybe…I’ll try and stop.”

“Really?” Eren asked, dumbfounded. He certainly wasn’t ready to search for a way to actually live life again. 

“Yeah. Starting tomorrow. I’ll probably fail miserably, but I can’t do this anymore.” 

“Hey, I believe in you, if that’s what you really want.” 

“Thanks.”

That was the end of the conversation. How ironic it was that Levi’s last spoken speech was about how he was going to make the effort to reform, to try and change. He would never receive that chance; how bitterly cruel the world could be. Eren felt a pang of emotion strike his heart at the thought, and he gave a facial expression that was a mix between a scowl and grimace. He placed his hand over Levi’s, taking the time to feel how cold it was before he got up. Emotional pain was not something he was willing to deal with, and so he was prepared to kill it off. He killed it off, alright; more drugs than he could ever hope to handle entered his system that night without him truly being aware of what he was doing. It was grotesquely similar to the way that Levi hadn’t realized that he would die from his meth intake. 

That night, Eren’s drug intake killed him. His last moments were spent on the bathroom floor; he’d decided to get high without Levi’s dead body in his line of sight. He fell heavily to the floor and closed his eyes for the last time, marking the end of his meaningless existence. A sense of relief washed over him as he took his last breath, letting the darkness close in on him to provide him with a sleep that never ended. He wouldn’t miss the world, especially since not even Levi belonged to the world anymore. To no longer exist was almost a blessing for the two lost souls of Apartment #8.

That day, Levi and Eren failed to do the only remaining thing that they were able to do.

To exist.


End file.
